Читать книгу Below the Salt - Thomas B. Costain - Страница 38

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Father and son walked out through the broken palisade, Tostig following with a mattock over his shoulder. Edward looked up at the sky in which a brightly burnished moon was yielding so much light that they could see all the way through the broken-backed arches of the cloisters to the clumps of stone marking the line of the western wall.

“It was on just such a night that my father led me out for this same purpose,” he said as though to himself. “It seemed to me that every bird flying on wings had come to attend us. They rustled in the ivy and twittered among themselves and the owls were hooting. I thought they were saying, ‘These poor mortals, stealing out at dead of night on their silly little errands.’ My father was so weak that he clung to my arm and he could barely whisper. He died before morning.”

A sudden and angry fluttering of wings greeted them at the entrance to the refectory. A single owl hooted from above the abbot’s house where, no doubt, Dirk was already fast asleep.

“Nothing seems to have changed,” muttered Edward.

“The vines should be rooted out, master,” said the practical Tostig. “Give them time and they’ll have all the walls down.”

The refectory, being so securely roofed, was very dark inside. Tostig laid down his mattock and lighted a torch.

“It is well that the roof holds,” said Edward. “Once it comes down, these stones underfoot will yawn and give up what is beneath.”

He began, still making use of the boy’s arm, to pace off distances from two of the walls. When convinced of his correctness, he tapped on one of the large square stones with his foot.

“This one, Tostig,” he said. “It is to come up. Put your back into it, my lad.”

The sturdy youth had the stone up quickly and, for a moment, the three of them stood together and looked into a dark vault below. The light of the torch made it possible to see the outline of a brief flight of stone steps leading downward. Edward took the torch into his own hands.

There was a stone in the vault below which had a cross chiseled on its surface. Edward pointed to the one above. This yielded easily to Richard’s pick and it was found to be of a few inches in thickness only. There was a dark space behind it, from which the questing hand of the father drew out the wooden case containing the Charter.

He stood and looked at it in silence, his fingers trembling with excitement.

“As you know, my son,” he said, “I cannot read. And yet I am certain of this, that there is no document in the world today, saving those of divine origin, which is of importance equal to this. It contains the hint of something new. An idea, a belief! That all men—even those who work in the fields and follow their overlords into battle—have the right to think as they please, to speak their own minds, to live as they desire, to be punished for misdoings only by due process of the laws of the land.” He replaced the paper in its container, as though afraid to let the light touch it. “Your head is full of dreams, my son, and it may be that this idea does not stir your heart yet as it does mine. But someday, I am sure, your eyes will open to the light.”

The next article removed from the open space was a bag of coins. Edward’s inability to read did not detract from his capacity to figure. He proceeded to count the coins on the damp floor of the vault.

“Eleven hundred and fifty-six,” he said. “You must never forget, my son, the purpose for which these coins were accumulated and hidden away. The total has grown little since Cuthbert of Rawen died, the difficulties of mere existence having become so great. It was started soon after the calamity of conquest befell us, at a time when every man of Saxon blood was certain we would soon be able to rally and drive the invaders out. They did not estimate the Normans at their full strength, having no idea how tenacious and greedy were the fingers of the invaders in their mailed gloves. They saw the strong, high castles being built at all strategic points but did not sense how difficult this would make any effort at liberation. The truth of the matter was that our people needed a great leader. The leader will come, never fear; and so we must keep this humble contribution of our ancestor’s storing. Every penny, as well as every man, will be needed, Richard, when the bell finally rings. I charge you not to take a single piece from this small hoard for any other purpose.”

“You have my promise,” declared the boy.

When they had climbed the steps and replaced the stone which concealed them, Edward the Saxon produced another document. “This,” he said, handing it to Tostig, “makes you a free man. It has been legally drawn and properly attested and from this moment you are no longer bound to the land. Your life is your own. You may marry as you wish and the children you bring into the world will be as free as you are.”

Tostig’s strong hand trembled as he accepted the document. “Is it mine?” he asked. “Am I to keep it?”

“It is yours. And you have earned it fairly and well.” The weary eyes of the head of the household took on a degree of warmth as he studied the sturdy figure in the plain gray tunic, and the close-cropped head. “My hope, Tostig, is that you will continue to serve my son.”

“I ask nothing better, master.”

“You have a sound head on your shoulders. And a sense of caution which, I fear, my son lacks. He will need you, Tostig, in the years ahead.” Edward paused and then held out a hand to the newly freed man. “And remember this. From now on you call no one ‘master.’ ”

The next morning, as the first rays of the sun lighted up the sky, the two adventurers took to their horses. The saddle cloths were of the plainest gray material, the snaffle bits were of unadorned iron, the stirrups lacked any hint of inlay, the saddlebags were of woolen cloth without any armorial embroidery. The travelers looked exactly what they were—a poor young lad and his servant, starting out on a journey.

When they reached the point where the road forked and one arm went to Baudene, they took for the first time the other arm which would lead them to London town.

Below the Salt

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